Bring Me to Life
by InnocentLittleDarkAngel
Summary: Harry's got a plan for Christmas at midnight. Will Voldemort let him go through with it? Warning: attempted suicide, mpreg, slight LightSide-bashing, slight Dumbledore-bashing, and lots of blood. Note: Harry is sixteen here. This may be triggering for people who self-harm. Merry Christmas, and Review!


_**Hello, lovelies! I'm here again! I present to you all, my special Christmas fic! It was a request from my brother to make it a Voldemort (Tom Riddle)/ Harry, so I did just that. He also wanted the mpreg bit, so I added that, too. This fic's inspiration came from Bring Me to Life by Evanescence, as you probably already all guessed. I suggest listening to the song while you read, but it works either way.**_

_**Note: I have a poll up, guys. Vote by the 14th of February, and I'll be writing a special fic on the pairing that has the most votes. For now, though, Draco/Harry is in the lead. I also take requests, so PM me if you want a special pairing. Remember, I have the right to refuse to write a fic, since there are a few couplings I don't write.**_

_**Without further ado, read on!**_

* * *

The outside world was snowy and bleak. A young man shuddered from inside the castle. Hogwarts was warm, but Harry Potter felt cold and lonely. All of his friends had left for the Christmas holidays, and he was alone at the castle except for a few other students who stayed behind. Voldemort had recently been acting up lately, and Dumbledore had forced Harry to stay at Hogwarts instead of stay with the Weasleys.

Harry looked away from the window with a sigh, and made his way to his bed in the Gryffindor dorm. His face was devoid of emotion by the time he was in the empty room. He cast a _Tempus_ and checked the time. Almost time to set his plan in motion. He just needed a few more minutes before he was able to carry out his plan. He didn't want anyone to ruin his plans.

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Voldemort, was bored. All his Death Eaters were away for the holidays, excluding a few of his guards and loyal followers, and he wasn't sure what Albus Dumbledore and his stupid Order of the Fiery Parrots were up to. He could always check on Harry Potter through the boy's mind, seeing as he found out the boy was his Horcrux after the stupid Headmaster had let it slip to Severus one day. Maybe he should check on the boy to see what was happening to the brat.

Voldemort closed his red orbs, and focused on being calm. That was the only way he could get in undetected. Slowly, the image of what Potter was seeing through his eyes became clearer.

His Horcrux was sitting on a bed, from what it looked like. The boy's thoughts were mixed and quite confusing to make out. Something about a plan.

_No one can ruin my plan._

What was Potter up to? Voldemort focused on what the other was seeing. The boy was staring at his school trunk, trying to decide whether to take _it_ out or not. What "it" was supposed to be, Voldemort did not know.

_No one can know. It's Christmas Eve. Just wait until midnight. Midnight._

Voldemort frowned. What the hell was the child going to do at midnight? He tried digging further into the sixteen-year-old's mind, but suddenly, he saw his Horcrux stand up and walk over to a desk where a quill and some parchment were waiting. The teen sat, and started to write.

**Dear Voldemort,**

The Dark Lord stared at what the Boy-Who-Lived was writing. Harry Potter was writing to Voldemort?!

**You surely won't expect this letter, and I hope you don't just make it burst into flames the moment you see it's from me. Yes, Voldemort, I, Harry Potter, am writing to you. You see, I don't see the point in not writing to you, seeing as by the time you get this letter, I will no longer be alive. Yes, Tom (can I call you Tom? Voldemort is such a long name, and I know you look like you used to when you were still a student at Hogwarts when you were sixteen, so I think Tom fits more), I will soon be dead. At midnight, to be exact, so I have no worries about you or anyone else being angry at me for dying. You most likely wanted to kill me yourself, but don't worry, I'll save you the trouble. Anyways, I've always wanted to talk to you in person, but since I won't get the chance, I guess I'll do it on paper. Let me tell you first about my childhood life before I went to Hogwarts.**

**You see, when you killed my parents, and my godfather Sirius (the one Bellatrix murdered last year at the Ministry. Ring any bells?) was arrested, Dumbledore left me in the "care" of my mother's sister and her husband. They weren't…the best of guardians. Actually, that's an understatement. They starved me, made me live in the cupboard under the stairs, and made me do all the chores around the house. I cooked for them, cleaned for them, did everything for them because they told me to. My fat whale of a cousin Dudley would constantly beat me up and use me as a punching bag with his friends. My even fatter uncle would also beat me, call me "freak", and he even tried to do much more. I think you can guess what I meant by that last part. My aunt would always glare at me and look at me as if I were scum at the bottom of her perfect shoes. I was always the abnormality that ruined their "perfect" lifestyle. They hated me, but I put up with it, because they were the only blood family I had.**

**Then I came to Hogwarts, where people adored me for being a "hero". They loved me for being the icon of the Light, for surviving a curse that should've killed me. And the people who didn't see me as their hero, they hated me, or they saw me as an attention-seeking brat. I didn't ask to be famous. I wanted to be Harry. Just Harry. Not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the famous Harry Potter, just Harry. But of course, I never got that.**

**I'm pretty sure you know what happened in my school years, so I won't bore you with that.**

**I've wanted to tell you something ever since you used my blood in that ritual in fourth year. I never hated you. Yeah, you killed my parents, you've tried and succeeded in making my life a living hell for the past sixteen years of my life, but you never directly showed your hatred towards **_**me**_**. You always talked about the Light, and how you hated the Light side. You **_**never**_** said you hated me. So, I couldn't hate you. I never really knew my parents, unfortunately, since I was only a year old when I last saw them, so I can't want revenge for that. I can't blame you for my blood relatives' behavior, since you don't control them. I have nothing to hate you for.**

**I do have somewhat respect for you, though. You went through hell as well at the orphanage, yet you didn't break like I am breaking now.**

**Maybe you're wondering why I will kill myself at midnight on Christmas. Why not my birthday, when I was born, to create a sense of irony? Or on Halloween, the day my parents died? Well, it's simple really. I've never been happy on Christmas. Christmas is a time for family and happiness, and I have got neither of those. So, I will give myself the present of death, where I will finally be able to have peace and happiness with my parents.**

**Now, since I now realize it is almost midnight, I'll have to finish this letter up. Tom, tonight at midnight, I will have committed suicide. I may not hope you rule the wizarding world, but I do hope you live a better life than I did. Everyone deserves a good life, even attractive Dark Lords. Yes, Tom, I think you're attractive. Don't have a heart attack.**

**Sincerely,**

**Harry James Potter**

Voldemort pulled himself out of the teen's head just as the boy was sealing the envelope, and he almost ran towards the edge of his manor, where he could apparate directly to where Harry was. He ignored his startled Death Eaters. When he'd researched on Horcruxes, something he'd found out was that the creator of the Horcruxes could apparate directly to wherever the Horcrux was, even with anti-apparation wards in place. Well, it still depended on how strong the wards were. It was a skill that would come in handy now.

He checked the time, and noticed it was almost midnight. 11:49 pm. He just hoped the boy would actually wait until midnight and not before. He also hoped Dumbledore did not notice his presence at the school.

With a swish of his robes, he was gone.

* * *

Harry sighed and watched Hedwig fly away from the window. It was almost time. He stared at the heavy silver blade in the middle of his bed. He had already cut himself so many times with that blade over the years. He had only ever needed a simple glamour to hide the scars. Now, though, his arms were free of all glamours and the scars shown in the faint moonlight. They crisscrossed around his forearms, leading up to the bend on his elbows, and farther up to his shoulders. His legs also bore some of the deeper scars, white against his tanned skin.

11:50 pm. Just ten more minutes. Harry hesitated. He might as well get it over with. It would be a while before he was able to bleed out. He had also stolen some of Snape's Blood-Replenishing potions just in case he decided to cut before midnight. He couldn't die before midnight. It would ruin his perfect present to himself.

The blade felt heavy in his slender hand. It was newly sharpened, glinting in the dim light from the windows. Harry traced his arm lightly with the cold metal, not enough to draw too much blood, but enough for a few droplets to rise to the surface. He sighed in relief. The itch to cut had grown stronger, and he was barely able to contain himself. Besides, he had already taken one of the many Blood-Replenishing potions he had on his desk.

He gripped the blade tighter and slashed it down his arm. Blood burst out and dripped down his arm in small rivulets. Harry kept slashing away at his skin, wanting to feel that relief, that euphoria, that cutting brought to him. It stung like hell, and hurt worse, but it distracted him from all his other problems; it distracted him from his unhappiness. He refused to think about anything else but the blood that was escaping from his veins onto his bed and the floor. He checked the time. 11:56 pm. Four minutes until midnight. Might as well keep going. He already felt dizzy from such rapid blood loss. He switched onto his right arm, and started cutting directly above a vein, willing himself to die faster. He ignored the sound of something exploding not very far away. He was too distracted by the blood.

* * *

Voldemort was frantic. Hogwarts had been difficult to apparate to, even if he was supposed to be able to apparate directly to Harry. She had allowed him to apparate inside her wards, but he wasn't allowed to apparate too close to the boy, which meant he had ended up quite a few floors away from where Harry actually was. He was almost on the other side of the bloody castle. He knew Hogwarts was fond of him, but to not let him save his Horcrux and _her_ favorite child from death by making him run all the way to the Gryffindor Tower was cruel. Hmm, well, maybe she couldn't let him apparate any closer. It didn't matter now. There were only four minutes left and he was only one floor away now. He ran up the stairs, mentally thanking the castle when she made the staircases stop moving so he could get there faster. His wand was out and blasting the portrait open even before he burst through into the common room. It was empty, thank Merlin. He hoped Harry hadn't warded his dorm room; it would only take up precious time.

He looked around the common room, trying to figure out which one was for the sixth years. He finally found it, seeing as it was the only dorm room that was closed. Voldemort thought he had never run faster in his life. His hand closed around the doorknob and pushed the surprisingly unlocked door open. The smell of blood hit him quickly, shocking him with its intensity. Harry had lost a lot of blood.

Voldemort's eyes zeroed in on the slumped figure on the bed closest to him. There was blood everywhere; on the floor, the bed, on Harry's clothes. Harry himself looked pale, his hand still clutching the silver blade, his eyes half-lidded. The Dark Lord rushed to him, checking for a pulse, not paying attention to the fact that his robes were rapidly soaking in blood. His Horcrux was still alive, but barely. The pulse fluttering under his fingers was slow and weak. Harry needed Blood-Replenishing potions. But how the hell was Voldemort going to get them if he wasn't at his manor?

For now, he would heal the deep wounds. The Dark Lord focused, willing his magic to close the cuts faster. If Harry couldn't bleed anymore, then maybe he could take him back to his manor to heal him fully.

"W-what…are you…doing here?" Harry whispered weakly, surprising Voldemort.

"I'm here to keep you from making a foolish mistake. I'm not letting you die tonight, nor any other night. You will stay with me, and I will keep you alive if it kills me," Voldemort answered firmly. He started on the teen's other arm.

"No…. Let me…die." A whimper escaped from Harry.

"Dying does not ensure you will be in peace. You may think death is the only way out, but I assure you it is not. Dying is only for people who give up too easily. You are not that type of person. Happiness may come in life when you least expect it, Harry Potter. Keep that in mind." Voldemort murmured. "Now, I know you took a Blood-Replenishing potion before this, but where are the rest? I will make you take them even if I have to shove them down your throat."

"On the…desk."

The Dark Lord got up and grabbed all the potions from the desk. He'd probably need more, but for now, it would have to do. He held the Boy-Who-Lived's head gently while the teen willingly drank the potion. He quickly replaced the empty bottle for another one, and kept going like that until all the potions were gone. Harry had finally passed out after he was done drinking the concoctions. His blood would replenish itself faster that way than if he was awake.

Voldemort finally got up, cradling the teen's body in his arms. He looked around the room, shrank all of Harry's things and placed them in his pocket, before he made his way to the common room, where he could apparate back to Riddle Manor. Hogwarts sent him a wave of warmth right before he apparated, and he smiled slightly before he was gone.

* * *

Harry woke up in a dark room. He was lying on a bed, dressed in what felt like robes, and had bandages around his arms. He felt tired, but when he saw movement from the corner of his eye, he scrambled to sit up, not caring that his arms protested to his weight on them.

Voldemort looked amused, if not a bit worried. What was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?

Then he remembered. Of course, Tom had saved him from bleeding to death. But why? And how did he know?

"I'm sure you have many questions for me, but I ask that you wait until you eat something first. It will help your recovery. You've been unconscious for two days."

Harry nodded sullenly, not really hungry at all. He still wanted to die. Why hadn't Voldemort let him fucking die?!

Voldemort snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared.

"Can you bring me some breakfast for the both of us, Lippy?"

The elf nodded excitedly. "Lippy will bring breakfast for Master and his guest!" Lippy popped away, and soon appeared again with a tray floating next to it.

Tom took it and thanked the elf. He maneuvered the tray until it was on the bed near Harry. Removing the cover on the dishes, he sat down on the bed cross-legged, facing the teen.

"Eat," he said, indicating the tray of food between them. He took one of the bowls, and started eating to show the food wasn't poisoned.

Harry tentatively took the other bowl, spooning the thick soup. It really looked good, and smelled heavenly. It probably tasted even better. He blew softly on it, before he let himself taste it. It really was delicious. Before he knew it, the soup was gone and Tom was handing him a plate with a slice of cake with sugary frosting all over it.

"To raise your blood sugar levels," was all the Dark Lord said about the dessert.

When they finally finished, Lippy took the plates and the tray and left them alone. Harry squirmed, not knowing what to say.

"Maybe we should start with why you are here?" Tom suggested, unconsciously answering the question in the teen's head about where to start.

"I wanted to die. You know that," Harry started in a low voice. "Exactly how you know is my question. I know you didn't get my letter that quickly. It should've gotten there after midnight."

"First of all, to answer your question, and probably more than just that one, has Dumbledore ever told you why I can take over your dreams and show you what I do? Has he told you why you can feel what I feel when I am particularly angry?"

The teen shook his head. "He only told me it was because of my scar, but I don't understand how."

Voldemort snorted. "Well, he has had you totally unaware of a few important things, then. Okay, do you know what a Horcrux is or does?"

Another shake of the head.

"Okay then, Dumbledore has not only had you unaware, but he also has you obliviously ignorant. Stupid old coot. He could at least _tell _you why he has you as a pawn. Alright, a Horcrux is a piece of a wizard's soul, used to keep that wizard in the living world even after they die. Basically, it makes that person immortal. You, Harry, are one of my Horcruxes. That night on Halloween when I killed your parents, I made you into a Horcrux. Completely accidental, mind you. I was set on killing you, but the curse didn't work the way I wanted it to. It didn't backfire at me, I can tell you that much, but it did turn you into the world first living Horcrux."

Harry stared at Voldemort, taking in his words, but not really understanding. Well, it did explain a few things. Like why Voldemort had saved him.

"So, the reason you always seem to know what I'm doing, the reason I know when you're angry, the reason you can pull me into your head, and the reason you saved me from dying was because I had a piece of your soul inside of me?"

"Essentially."

"Sounds like some sort of twisted, sappy love story to me."

Tom burst out laughing, startling Harry with its sound. Tom laughed until tears ran down his face and he was clutching his stomach. Voldemort really did have a nice laugh. It didn't sound evil or malicious. Just nice. Harry smiled slightly at the image the Dark Lord made.

The Dark Lord looked young again, the way he did when he had been a student at Hogwarts, if not a bit older. His dark hair was tousled but perfect, and his red eyes only added to his appeal. They seemed to glow when he was in a good mood, and darkened when he was angry. Right now, his pale cheeks were flushed from laughing and the lack of breathing, and his eyes held a certain sparkle.

"You know, the flush on your cheeks is very lovely with your pale skin."

Harry snapped his eyes to Tom's, and blushed heavily. He hadn't meant to stare at the other man.

"And the reason I saved you wasn't just because you're my Horcrux," Voldemort continued.

"Then why did you?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, part of it was because you're my Horcrux. But, another part of me didn't really want you to die. I mean, if I really wanted you dead, I would've killed you long ago simply by poisoning you at school." Tom shrugged nonchalantly. "Also, you don't seem to be the kind of person that just gives up. You and I have more in common than you think, Harry. We've both had bad childhoods, but we survived it. I grew older, and immortal, and you still have the chance to live. I've given you a second chance. I've taken you from Hogwarts, where they will find your blood spilled all over your dorm. They will assume you are dead, most likely murdered by someone of my Death Eaters, since they can't stand the thought of their _Golden Boy_ killing himself, and they will move on with their lives. They will continue fighting me, but _you_ can live here at the manor, known to my most loyal Death Eaters only, and you can live the way you've always wanted. You can be just _Harry _here. Not Harry Potter, not the Boy-Who-Lived, not the Savior, _just Harry_. What do you think?" Voldemort looked eager at the prospect of having Harry live there.

Harry himself felt a bit eager. He wouldn't ever have to be a hero anymore. He could just live peacefully until…until what exactly? Until he died naturally? Maybe he should ask Voldemort more about Horcruxes. Now that he didn't have to "save" anyone, he saw no need to die. He needed no escape from duties thrust upon him.

"I…I guess I could live here," he answered shyly. "But only if you answer all my questions and tell me more about Horcruxes."

Tom nodded, smiling.

* * *

"Toooooom," Harry whined. "Stop teasing me!"

It had already been almost a month since Harry had decided to live at Riddle Manor. The two had slowly gotten closer. Voldemort and Harry had spent New Year's Day together, toasting and laughing. Harry, not at all used to alcohol, had been more than a little tipsy and had said some errant comment about how he thought Tom was attractive. Of course, Tom had not paid much attention to what the teen said at the time, but had let the younger male cuddle into him at midnight when the clock chimed.

And now, Harry was being teased for that night. Again.

"It's not _my_ fault you find me oh so attractive, Harry. If only you hadn't mentioned that in the letter…," Tom responded, smirking at the furious blush on the other teen's cheeks.

"Well, the only reason I told you was because I thought I'd already be dead, and there would be no reason not to tell you that I maybe fancied you," Harry grumbled, his voice growing softer towards the end.

"What was that last part, Harry? I didn't quite catch the last few words."

"You know what I said, you smug idiot."

"Actually, I don't know what you said," Voldemort replied, walking closer to the teen and standing directly behind him to whisper in his ear. "Why don't you tell me what you said at the end? I want to hear you say it loud and clear."

Harry's breath hitched when the other male's breath tickled his ear and his scent washed over him. He wanted to moan when Tom's hands settled on his hips lightly, rubbing the skin underneath the thin clothes.

"I said…I said that I didn't see why I couldn't tell you that I maybe fancied you," he answered breathlessly, his cheeks a permanent red color.

"Really, now? You like me, Harry?" Tom nipped his ear gently.

A small moan was his answer. He turned Harry around, placing his hands on the teen's hips possessively, and kissed him. It was a dominating kiss, Tom's tongue slipping into Harry's mouth as soon as Harry gasped in surprise. Their tongues wrestled for a while before breath became a necessity. Their foreheads were stuck together.

"You know what, Harry?" Tom whispered.

"Hmm?"

"I think I may like you as well."

"Good," was all the teen said before he pulled Voldemort into another blinding kiss.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke up first. The silk covers felt nice against his naked skin. Tom was spooning him from behind, holding him by the waist. Harry felt blissfully sore, but unfortunately, he had to get up and go to the bathroom.

Carefully making sure Tom wouldn't wake, Harry slid out from under the male's arm and walked awkwardly to the bathroom. He relieved himself and walked quietly back to the bed. Voldemort was already waking up, trying to find Harry's warmth, but coming up empty.

"Harry?" the Dark Lord asked groggily.

"Right here," he replied, burrowing under the covers and settling comfortably in his lover's arms. His cheek pressed against Tom's smooth chest, feeling the heartbeat under him.

"Thought you had run away from me," the older man muttered, tightening his arms around the teen.

"I was just in the bathroom, you paranoid pervert."

"Pervert, huh?"

"Mhmm."

Tom flipped the teen over, making Harry yelp as he was pinned under the older male. Nipping and kissing all over his younger lover's neck, Tom chuckled under his breath when he heard a breathless moan from below.

"Am I still a pervert?"

Harry didn't answer, instead preferring to pull up Tom for a kiss. Their mouths molded together perfectly, tongues flicking across each other gently while hips pressed under the covers. Nothing else was said for the rest of the morning.

* * *

*a week later*

Harry stared at his lover in shock.

"You…you want to introduce me to the Death Eaters?"

"Yes," Voldemort answered, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Why?"

"Because you are my lover, and they must know who you are. They knew I've had a guest all this time, but they didn't know who. Now, it is even more imperative that they meet you."

Harry nodded, and looked down at his breakfast that the elves had made for them. He wanted to ask Tom a question, but he didn't know how he would be answered. He didn't even know if he wanted to hear the answer.

"I know something's on your mind, but for politeness sake, I'm not going to read your mind. But would you tell me instead?" Tom's voice broke through his thoughts.

The teen fiddled with his spoon, but instead let go and placed his hands in his lap. He ignored the scrape of a chair until firm fingers pulled his chin up to stare at glowing red orbs. Tom sighed at the look Harry gave him and pulled the teen off the chair and swung him up in his arms. The raven-haired teen yelped as he was carried bridal-style through the halls until they stopped at Tom's room. He was dropped gently on the bed and felt Tom's strong arms pull him into a hug.

"Now, tell me what's wrong, love," Voldemort murmured, nuzzling his lover's soft hair.

"Do you…do you think I could make a Horcrux?" Emerald eyes closed while he blurted the question out.

"What brought this on, Harry?"

"I realized that you're going to keep living forever with the Horcruxes you already have, but I'll eventually die. If I'm with you, I don't want to die. I want to keep living with you for the rest of eternity. I was thinking about making a Horcrux," the teen confessed, clutching unconsciously to the other's robes.

"…I don't think you making a Horcrux will be necessary until you turn at least seventeen," was his answer.

"Why until then?"

"It's not that you don't have the magical power to create a Horcrux, Merlin knows I made mine at your age; but I think it's better to wait and see how our relationship works out before we make rash decisions," Tom said carefully, not wanting to hurt his younger lover's feelings.

Tears sprang unbidden to Harry's eyes, but he still plastered on a fake smile and agreed quietly.

* * *

*two weeks later*

"Are you sure you're okay?"

No reply.

"Harry?"

No response.

"I swear to Merlin, Harry, if you don't open the door within the next ten seconds, I will blast this door down.''

The lock clicked, and the door opened to reveal a pale Harry Potter, covered in sweat and looking sickly. Tom rushed to his young lover and held him carefully in his arms. The teen had been throwing up for the past few days and nothing helped. Tom was ready to say screw with everything and take the teen to St. Mungo's.

"How do you feel, love?"

Harry groaned softly. "Like I want to keep vomiting up everything in my stomach."

Voldemort chuckled. "Come on, let's get you to bed so I can contact a Healer. Enough is enough. You've been sick for too long."

"You're going to have to hold that thought, Tom," Harry gasped out, getting out of the Dark Lord's arms and falling down in front of the toilet, where he proceeded to be violently sick.

Tom walked over and held the raven's hair, rubbing his back soothingly and waiting until he was done before he spelled the teen's mouth clean and carried him back to their shared bed. Harry was too weak to protest.

"I'm calling one of my trusted Healers. I'll be right back, my love." He kissed Harry's forehead and left to make a call.

* * *

"You can't be serious," Voldemort muttered, running a hand anxiously through his hair.

Harry was being sick in the bathroom again, but now they knew why. It didn't make the situation better.

The Healer had told them in no uncertain terms after checking Harry that the teen was pregnant.

"_How is that possible? We're both guys," Harry asked in confusion._

"_Well, it is a bit uncommon in wizards, but it does happen from time to time. When one or both of the wizards are magically powerful, which you both are, the submissive in the relationship can become pregnant. It isn't common enough that people talk about it to their children, but it does happen every few years or so," Healer Vanster explained._

_The Healer checked a few more things with Harry before declaring that Harry was healthy and so was the baby._

"Tom?" a plaintive voice called from the bathroom.

Voldemort frowned and went inside to check on Harry. The teen had begun losing weight from so much morning sickness. Harry was also weak from so much strain it put on him. He couldn't keep anything down anymore except water.

"Feeling better?" Tom asked a bit stiffly, to the growing dismay of Harry.

"Yes," he mumbled, slowly rising from the floor where he had been all morning.

"Good. I'll be getting the anti-nausea potion from Severus today. I have to meet him, so I'll be gone for a few minutes. Can you make it to the bed?"

At Harry's shake of the head, he sighed and picked him up as gently as possible, apparently not gently enough when the teen's face turned pale and his mouth clamped shut to fight the dizziness. He placed him on the bed and was about to leave when a slender hand held him in place.

"What is it, Harry?" he asked tiredly.

"Why don't you want me anymore?" the quiet voice asked.

He whirled around to face his younger lover, anger sparkling in his red eyes. "You think I don't want you?!"

Harry flinched. "Well, you don't seem to ever want to be around me anymore. You're always so stiff, like it pains you to even look at me. And when I'm sick, you're not there like you were at the beginning. I mean, I don't mind if it sickens you when I'm throwing up, but I know it doesn't bother you, so it kind of hurts when you ignore me and only help me because I can't do things on my own."

The Dark Lord grimaced, knowing the emerald-eyed male was right. A soft sob reached his ears, and his eyes snapped to Harry, who was trying and failing to muffle his sobs behind his hands. He sighed and cradled the weak form gently. His lover struggled against his grip for a few seconds before tiring and giving up.

"L-let me -hic- g-go! Y-you don't (sob) l-love me any-hic-anymore."

"Shh, love. Of course I still love you," he said calmly, rubbing the teen's back. "I never stopped loving you. It just pains me to see you so sick and weak every day. Once you get your required potions, you'll be fine."

"But…-hic- but you don't w-want a -hic- b-baby."

"Who said I didn't?"

Harry looked up at Tom, his emerald eyes shining with tears. There was hope in those eyes.

"You r-really would -hic- want to h-have a baby with m-me?"

"I'm overjoyed at the thought that you currently have my child inside of you. I just love you all the more for that." Voldemort gently kissed him on the lips and placed a hand on his flat belly.

A smile flitted over his lover's pale lips. "I love you, too. I'm happy you saved me that Christmas day. You brought me back to life."

"It was my pleasure to do so."

* * *

_**I'll admit, I did rush this. I had to have it done by midnight. That was the plan, and I wasn't going to ruin it. Hope you guys enjoyed, and please review!  
**_


End file.
